Tuдџkan Geг§er Review

Is it the way the autumn leaves let go?Or how the river hides its deepest flow?The melody you hummed still haunts the hall,A gentle rise before the final fall.

The city lights are blurred again,Filtered through a window pane of rain.Your voice is just a ghost upon the wire,A flicker in a cold and dying fire. Tuğkan Geçer

For every storm eventually must tire,And every heart must walk through its own fire.The morning comes, however slow the light—It passes, like the deepest part of night. Is it the way the autumn leaves let go